


the tigress and the dulling of her claws

by unnohrian (cuddlebros)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Comfort, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Guilt, Lesbian Sex, Master/Pet, Petplay, Relationship Problems, Spanking, Working Out Issues In The Bedroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlebros/pseuds/unnohrian
Summary: Relationships take work: of course they do. For Oboro, that means trying hard to overwhelm the hate she holds for Nohrian's in order to keep loving you in the way you deserve. For you, it means stepping out of your comfort zone to help her. With the helpful suggestion of a friend, you find a way to work on it that's a pleasurable as it is effective.
Relationships: Oboro (Fire Emblem)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25





	the tigress and the dulling of her claws

**Author's Note:**

> I really wish there was a tag for 'relationship maintenance' because I think that's the closest short description of this fic, but hey-ho. This fic features the reader as a healer for the joint Hoshidan/Nohrian army in the Revelations path.

The trouble began when you tried to hide something. It was nothing big— just a gift you had picked up that you wished to save until her birthday—but just that small amount of dishonesty had been enough to tip the scales. Perhaps you should have known better, but all things are clearer in hindsight.

It first presents itself when you’re being measured for your summer uniform. Winter and spring had flown by with the advancement of the army, and you were eager for your uniform to be ready so that you could support the summer push. Standing in your smallclothes as your lover measures your hips, you catch sight of it. It’s so surprising that you jolt, which only makes matters worse.

“Stand _still_!” Oboro snaps. When you straighten up, she replaces her measuring tape and begins to grumble, just loud enough for you to hear. “I know Nohrians are pig-headed, but I thought you’d at least be able to follow basic instructions.”

Her harsh words shock you just as much as catching a glimpse of her demonic expression had, only moments earlier. You hadn’t been on the receiving end of either since the two of you had become close, first as friends, and then as partners. Neither of you had imagined that her heart would be softened by a Nohrian—you suppose that no-one else had, either—but your love was built on honesty and hard work. Until now, that had kept her hatred of Nohrians at a low simmer.

“Sorry, darling, but… you looked so angry, it scared me.”

A flash of something crosses her face, and in a moment her anger has changed to guilt. “...I hadn’t realised. Sorry, you didn’t deserve that attitude.”

“We’re okay, Ro,” you assure her with a smile. “I’ll be still.”

“Maybe we should continue this later. I don’t think I’m focused enough right now.”

It’s unusual for anything to shake your girlfriend out of focus, but you figure she has something on her mind, and leave her alone with a quick kiss. 

* * *

You give the incident some thought, and realise that perhaps your lover had picked up on the very subtle signs that you were hiding something from her. She could sniff out even the smallest hint of deception when it came to a Nohrian, and it always soured her mood. With no other ideas, you decide to root out the source of the deception, and settle on giving her the birthday gift early.

She returns to your shared quarters one evening to find a small box tied with her favourite colour of silk ribbon sitting on her side of the bed. “What’s this?” 

“A gift! It was meant to be for your birthday, but… I thought hiding it from you might have been putting you on edge.”

She’s silent as she moves towards it, and stays silent as she unwraps it. You’ve shared many minutes of silence with Oboro: silence as you fall asleep in the middle of the night, silence as you share a good meal together, silence as you ready each other to head into the battlefield—but this is like none of those. It’s a silence that pricks at the back of your neck like an impending thunderstorm.

“You… bought this for me?” You can’t tell what tempers her voice, but it feels halfway between guilt and remorse. “This… it’s… why would you waste your money on something like this?”

“I thought you’d like it… the haberdasher said that it was a pretty rare fabric—”

“It was popular twenty years ago.”

“They said it was coming back into fashion, a real retro look—”

She puts the box down without even feeling the fabric, and the whole thing just feels _wrong_.

“You… shouldn’t have bought this for me.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No,” she snaps, “and I wish you’d just—” She cuts herself off with a frustrated noise, takes one last look at the box, and leaves the bedroom in a whirlwind.

You’ve no idea what you could have possibly done wrong, and trying to wrack your brain for any cultural or personal misstep leaves you just as confused. Eventually, you shake the shock off, put the present in the bottom of your drawer, and try to fall asleep. For the first time in years, you sleep alone.

* * *

“We need to talk. And by we, I mean… I need to talk.”

You’d braced yourself as best you could for this moment, but it caught you in the chest all the same. “It’s okay, Ro,” you say with a sad smile. She looks at you in confusion, but you want to save her from having to try to let you down gently. “I understand. You can’t overlook my heritage any more, right? I can’t blame you… I love you, Oboro, and if it’s hurting you to be with me, then—”

“No, no, no,” she interrupts you, “no, I don’t want you to leave. And it’s not your fault, my love. I _know_ you. I _do_ trust some Nohrians—I mean, I trust you, Corrin, Niles and even Prince Xander, to some extent. No, I need to apologise. I’ve been snappy and cruel to you of late, and I know I have, but I haven’t been able to control myself.”

“I just assumed it was your response to me hiding things from you.”

“It could have been,” she admits, “and perhaps it started that way, but that’s not the whole of it. You explained it all to me, your actions held no malice. You gave me that beautiful gift, and still, I was vicious about rejecting it. You didn’t deserve that. So I felt guilty about snapping at you, which put me on edge, which made me more snappy—”

“A vicious cycle.”

Oboro nods.

“But it _is_ because of me being from Nohr.”

“I think so. But I don’t want it to tear us apart—I want to work through it, I want _us_ to work through it. And… I’ve been speaking to Niles.”

“Just to infuriate yourself?” you joke.

She gives you a dry smile, the kind of dry smile that you love. “Partly. But... he knows some things. And he can be serious when he wants to, you know. We didn’t go into details, but he asked about our… intimate life.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course he did.”

“Not to be gross,” she insists, “but because it can be a good place to work out some things. He said that he’s used it with his husband to work on his abandonment issues, and he said it helped. Our sex life is healthy, and I trust you—so it makes sense to work on this intimate problem in an intimate situation.”

You mull the idea over for a moment. The bedroom you shared was truly a sanctuary, a comfortable room that you had decorated together, where you discussed your days, your wants and dreams and aggravations, where you made love and dressed and slept. The four walls saw and kept secret the little things that knit together to make up your lives. More than anything, it felt safe.

“Okay. I really want to work through this, Ro, but it doesn’t seem like an issue that we can just fuck out of each other.”

“Not in the normal way, but there are… there are some things we’ve never explored that Niles thought could help. We need to talk about boundaries, about things we can try and things we refuse to touch, but I think it’s worth a shot.”

“If you think it might work, then count me in.”

With a wide smile, she takes your hand in hers, and presses a sealing kiss to your fingers.

* * *

The items in your satchel feel like they’re burning red hot against your back as you return to the castle. It’s as though everyone you encounter knows exactly what you’ve bought in the town, as if they know exactly what you’re planning on using it for.

Oboro had placed an order for a soft leather collar, the main body of which was a fashionable orange with deep navy trim, as well as a leash of the same navy with a simple golden clasp. You had no idea how she knew to commission that specific shop, but something told you Niles was involved. The collection had been blessedly simple, but the imaginary mark on your back had remained until you were safely back in your room.

You return at almost the exact same time as Oboro, who you assume has just returned from the hot springs after training. You share a quick kiss, and she begins undressing. “So you made it into town, love?”

“I did. I don’t know what I imagined it to look like, but you have great taste in leatherwork.”

“Mmh. Should we try it out today?”

“Do you feel up to it?” you ask with surprise. “You’ve had a long day…”

“I want to try as soon as we can.”

“Ro…” you say, guardedly, “don’t do this from a place of guilt. You have to be ready, honey, truly ready.”

With her kimono open, she takes your face in her hands, making sure you can see the honesty in her eyes. “I want this, love. I want to try something new with you, and I think it’s going to make a real difference in our relationship. I want to improve things as fast as they can be improved.”

“Okay. Okay! Well… you keep undressing, then, and I’ll…”

“Watch?”

“Watching is good.”

Lying back on your bedsheets, you get to witness Oboro’s amazing transformation. She’d already let down her hair and disrobed of the heavy chest piece that kept her kimono in place, but now came the removal of her long boots, then the peeling off of her leggings. Her legs are so strong, something you’d not expected given her discipline was mainly the naginata; but she often reminded you that her power came from her legs just as much as it came from her core.

She moves with such grace as she undresses that you imagine her a dancer, performing only for you. But she quickly continues past the moment of your fantasy, unwrapping her wrist bindings, placing the fabric in neat piles on the top of the dresser. She turns her back to you as she shucks off the heavy material of her kimono, and you marvel at the sight revealed. Her back is a canvas of pale skin, rippled with muscle and marked here and there with thin lines of pale pink scars you could map with your eyes closed.

Now she’s down to her underwear, your nerves return. They’re there as she picks up and hangs her kimono, they’re there as she undoes her breast wraps and pulls down her briefs—and they only increase as she picks up the collar and leash and stalks over to you.

“Would you put it on for me?”

The leather is cool in your hands, and so malleable that it conforms to the curve of Oboro’s neck with no issue. You tighten it enough that you’re sure she can breathe, and that it won’t rub her sensitive skin raw.

“How does that feel?”

“Just perfect,” she assures you. “Are you ready?”

“I think so.” You lean forward to kiss her, a sweet and reassuring baseline before the two of you jump into something new. “I love you.”

“I love you too—now, no stalling. Let’s get started.”

You back off from where she first kneels, then gets onto all fours on the ground, keeping the handle of the leash in your hand. The change that comes over the two of you is almost instantaneous, a strange sensation of settling into roles that you’d never known you could hold. Below you, Oboro’s expression shows the same journey, going from truly neutral to a rough grimace. A low growl grows in the back of her throat, and together with that scowl, she _could_ be quite frightening.

But in your new role as pet-tamer, you know to give no quarter.

“Good pets don’t growl at their owners, and good cats don’t scowl like that.” Oboro snaps her teeth at you, but makes no move to attack you. “They don’t snap, either. Dear me, has no one ever taught you proper manners? I suppose I’ll have to be the one to do so…”

Oboro continues to growl, but you give it no notice. Thankful that you’d discussed it beforehand, you give the leash a tug—not a tug that could harm her in any way, but a little warning. She stops growling at the warning, and you give her hair a ruffle. “There. That’s better, isn’t it?”

A guiding pull on the leash has your lover walking grudgingly on all fours behind you until you reach the cushioned chair that rests against the wall opposite your bed. You take a seat, and Oboro stops almost the full length of the leash away from you. You tut; that won’t do.

“Heel, little tiger.” When she makes no move to crawl closer, you once again pull at her collar until she does so. “Every act of disobedience will be punished, little tiger. You’ve already earned yourself two rounds of discipline—if you wish to keep it at that, I suggest you start learning to follow direction.”

Oboro snarls at you, but another tug has her face settling into a more neutral expression.

“Good behaviour will be rewarded, but you’ll have to endure your punishment to receive it. If you understand, nod.”

The moment between your question and her response seems to stretch out, the quiet seeming bigger for the importance of it all. But she nods, and the breath you had no idea you were holding comes out in an even sigh.

“Wonderful! Now, you’ve a job to do.”

Oboro crawls in closer to you, closer still as you spread your legs. You make no move to pull up the hem of your kimono, and when she makes moves to sit up and use her hands to help her out, you tut. “Only well trained little tigers get to use their paws—I don’t trust those claws of yours just yet.”

She gets the message. She crawls even closer to you until her head can dip under the hem of your skirts, and there she disappears. The first little touch of her hair against the skin of your leg is a ticklish, electrifying thing, as are the tiny touches of her lips against your inner thighs that follow. These touches are what you know of her love: a soft, gentle love, not a cruel intention in sight. This is the Oboro you know and love.

The path of kisses are interspersed with little nips, tiny love bites that border on cheeky, but you let it slide. Eventually, she leaves your legs alone, moving now to the even more sensitive skin of your pussy. Her breath fans against your labia for a moment, and you can see the lump under your kimono hesitating.

In little time, she’s warming you up proper. She begins with kitten licks, tiny little movements that flutter through the wetness of your slit. The last sensation doesn’t have time to disappear before her tongue is back on you, just a constantly building thrum of feeling. It’s a way that Oboro has never fucked you before, but the foreign feeling is _good_.

“Cheeky thing,” you sigh through a laugh. “You’ve had this up your sleeves for a while, haven’t you? Little minx.” Oboro makes no noise of agreement, but gives your clit a little lick.

She keeps licking, teasing until you tug at her collar and order her to make you cum. “If it’s quick,” you promise, “your punishment will be cut in half.”

It’s enough encouragement to have her ramping up her efforts. You hear her frustrated noises at not being able to use her hands, but you feel a sense of pride when she keeps following orders. Her tongue fucks into you further, plumbing as far as it can into you before switching attention to your lips. You squirm a little in your seat as her tongue dances, then focuses closer on your clit, engorged with the teasing you’d allowed her. Idly, you wonder how wet she is, if she’s getting off on this as much as you are. You really hope she is.

The thought of her pleasure is far away, though, as you feel your orgasm approaching, the muscles tensing as pleasure courses through you. Next time, you _need_ to feel your fingers in her hair, you think as you grip the arms of the chair, panting as you try to keep a hold of the feeling that comes _just_ before the crest of your orgasm.

And then you’re coming, your chest tight and breaths big as your whole body climbs to familiar heights of pleasure. You push Oboro’s head into your core as best you can, just willing her to stay there, to keep you in the middle of the waves of feeling.

When you let her go, and she comes back up for air, her hair is mussed, her face red and her mouth surrounded by the wetness of your cunt—and there’s a contentment in her eyes that you’d not noticed was missing. You love her, you love her so deeply and completely that you want to cry for it: but it’s not the time. There’s discipline to be doled out, and a healthy dose of pleasure, too.

“Well done, little tiger," you pant. "It feels almost cruel to have to punish you after such a wonderful performance.” Your sweetheart makes a sad little keening noise, and you coo in sympathy. “I know, darling, but it must be done.”

You join her on the ground, kneeling at her side. You spend a moment massaging the skin of her closest ass cheek, warming and waking up the muscle. You press a quick kiss to her buttock, and then raise your hand. “I don’t want to hear a peep from you. You’ll take five hits on one cheek, then five on the other, and then you’ll get your reward.”

The first spank is a measured one to the roundest part of her ass. It barely makes her body react, but that’s exactly how you’d wanted it. The next two are a little heavier, but not enough to make her want to call out. It’s the fourth and fifth impacts that have her biting her lip, just as you'd planned. By the tenth strike, you think she'll be holding on by the thinnest thread.

“Good girl! Only five more to go.”

The second round has her body reacting quite a bit more, jerking forward at every spank. You notice little movements of her thighs rubbing together, and the wetness that had gathered begins to glisten at the top of her thighs. You grin—she really _was_ enjoying this. 

The last spank lands with little fanfare, and you let it simmer for a moment before beginning to massage the steadily reddening skin. “Not a sound! An absolutely perfect performance, little tiger, I knew you could do it!”

Your praise has Oboro drawing up a watery smile. You kiss her face, from the tears forming in the corner of her eyes to her forehead to her cheeks, just to show her how proud you were.

“Come now, your knees must be aching. Lie on the carpet and spread your legs—and I want to hear every little noise you make as I make you cum.”

She does as instructed, and now you are the one on your knees. Your head ducks down towards her cunt, glistening beneath a little patch of neat blue hair. Your tongue flicks at her clit, but you’re under no restrictions, so your fingers find her opening, too. She’s warm and open for you, not needing to be prepped before two of your fingers are slipping into her. 

“M-mmh, gods, m-mistress!” she mewls, her cunt gripping onto you and fluttering around your fingers. The title shocks you a little, though you try not to show it. You’d never asked her to call you anything in particular, hadn’t thought of what she could call you. Mistress sits right with you.

“That’s it, little tiger, let the world know how good you are for your mistress.”

She follows your words to a t, moaning wantonly as you tease her clit, letting her cries reach an almost obscene crescendo as the pleasure of the entire evening overcomes her. She comes hard on your fingers, drenching you almost down to the wrist as you fuck her through it.

You crawl by her side up the length of her body, collapsing at her side on the floor and pulling her sweaty body into you. “How was it, darling? Was I too mean? Was it—”

“It was perfect, love,” Oboro reassures you. “It... reminded me just how much I trust you. You had the control, but I knew I was safe in your hands.”

Her words are bigger than their immediate meaning, and the point of the whole exercise settles into focus as the pair of you bask in the afterglow. 

* * *

You make no moves to test Oboro’s renewed trust in you, but life does. Though the two royal families had decided to come together in the pursuit of peace, it didn’t mean that everyone was happy about it. When a trusted member of the joint army is unmasked as a Nohrian traitor and spy for King Garon, whispers begin to ripple through the ranks.

“I knew we couldn’t trust those dogs,” you hear as you pass an open recreation tent one afternoon. You peep in and see a grizzled looking older man playing cards with some of his fellow soldiers. You know him well: he’s missing an arm, and he often comes to you in the medical wing for assistance with his bandages and scarring. He’s funny, with a great many stories, and he gives you boiled sweets whenever he sees you. “Those blasted Nohrians got their foot in the door and they immediately stab us in the back!”

A long-suffering sigh from a female soldier. She plays a card and leans back. “As much as I want to believe there are good ones, they make it really hard for us to trust them…”

“Lord Corrin trusts them,” says another, fiddling with his stack of coins. “And I don’t think he’d do anything to put us in danger…”

“That boy’s too trusting,” the older man grumbles. “And he was raised in that den of wolves: who knows how much poison they fed him as he grew up.”

A gentle hand at your elbow has you whipping away from your snooping spot, and you’re looking into the eyes of your beloved. They’re soft eyes, though, the total opposite of the demon you were expecting. It’s clear from her expression that she’d heard what they were discussing.

“Come on, darling,” she whispers, grasping for your hand to pull you away. You go with her, weak jointed, teary-eyed, and not quite knowing what to think. Her solid hand guides you all the way to the quiet calmness of the peach grove, where she finds a bench in just enough shade to cover you both.

“I heal them, Ro,” you manage to choke out. “They come to me broken and crying, and I soothe them, I heal them. I love them, for the cause they fight for, for who they are as people—will they all… will they all see me as evil?”

She pulls you into her arms, trying to wrap around you like a blanket. “Oh, sweetheart. This new wound is fresh, but in the grand scheme of things, I think we’ll find it shallow. The work you do, the work all of the other peace-loving Nohrians in this army do—that’s working to sew up the bigger wounds. And it’s working.”

“How could they trust me?”

“Because you’ve proven yourself, time and again, as an honest woman, a woman who is dedicated to Corrin’s cause above all previous affiliations. I assure you, love, that people will keep trusting in your healing hands—not because they have no other choice, but because you’re dependable, and charming, and great at your job. You’re a Nohrian, sure; but you’re an ally first. They’ll remember that soon enough—they’d be fools not to.”

You stay blanketed in her arms for a long while, long enough for the late afternoon bell to chime. It’s hard to part, but you put on a strong face for Oboro and head to your station.

It’s not until you’re organising your tools in the nursing room that evening that you realise it. That discussion must have dredged up old feelings of hatred for Nohr—but instead of letting that affect her, she’d come to your aid. She’d _chosen_ not to hold your heritage against you, she’d _chosen_ to see you as the woman you were instead of the Nohrian murderer you weren’t.

With a smile, you make a little note on some parchment to remind you to do something nice for her soon.

* * *

“You’ve come so far, kitten!” you coo. Your fingers thread through her hair with little effort, separating the deep blue strands into little rivers that cascade down her back. “Only months ago you weren’t trained enough to talk, and now you’re almost civilised!”

“Thank you for training me so well, mistress,” she purrs, nestling up into your hand.

“No need to thank _me_ , darling. You were the one who put in the hard work… and hard work always deserves a reward, hm?”

Oboro doesn’t nod, but she’s pliant and pliable as you roll her over. Good kittens got the privilege of being on the bed, and she’d worked hard to earn that privilege. And as you make your way down her body, you thank the goddess for giving you such a hard-working kitten.

**Author's Note:**

> From this prompt over on tumblr (from a long, long time ago--I'm so sorry): "My idea was that Oboro sometimes has trouble dealing with the fact that she loves a Nohrian and starts being hurtful and lashing out at Anon when her instinctive hatred for Nohr gets the better of her. I had a vague idea of Anon using pet play as a way to force her to get control of herself through sexual play, "tame" Oboro from a wounded, angry animal back to a loving pet. Or something like that? It's vague in my head." I hope this is close to what you were looking for!
> 
> This is not how you train a real animal, oh my god do not use this a guide on how to train real animals, I cannot stress that enough. I also have no experience with pet play in real life so take this as entertainment only, and not a guide on safe roleplay practices. Always, always do your research before diving into potentially dangerous kink play, or really any kink play.
> 
> Sorry I've been gone for so long! The short reason is: writing got hard. The longer reason is boring and full of the reasons that writing got hard. I'm definitely rusty, so if you see any bad characterisation/bad writing/obvious plot holes/mistakes--please do let me know! (You can do that either here or at cuddlebros.tumblr.com) 
> 
> I'm going to be continuing to work through the backed-up prompts I have for a while, so there should be a few more fics in the woodwork soon. I hope you're all well and safe, and able to keep your heads up during these challenging times. <3


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